Abish
by Blik
Summary: Book of Mormon.  All we know about Abish's history is that her father had a vision when she was young.  But who is this woman, really?  This is her story, told first through her father's eyes, and then her own.
1. The Vision, Ch 1: Shalem

ABISH

* * *

PART ONE: The Vision

Chapter 1 – Shalem

* * *

Shalem loved mornings. Especially right before noon, when the marketplace in the City of Ishmael was just beginning to wake up. Though all the artisans and shopkeepers had arrived some hours ago, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement among the townspeople that everyone took care of his own work first before the day's business began in earnest.

For Shalem, this meant that he had had the whole morning to quietly carve. He had received quite the reputation for his skill around town – according to his friends, everyone said that for the highest-quality work, for the tightest joints, the realest likenesses, and the most beautiful and ingenious designs, Shalem was the craftsman to see. He didn't really feel like he deserved a reputation quite so glowing, but he did his best to live up to it.

Through his open door, Shalem could see the more inexperienced vendors arranging their wares on brightly colored cloths. He chuckled as he watched one of the younger ones, who had forgotten to leave himself space enough to sit cross-legged on his cloth, nervously shake his head and rearrange his baskets to be able to settle down among them.

Shalem poked his head out of his shop to look up at the recently-erected public sundial, a large stone column in the center of the market with lines inscribed that radiated downward from a rod protruding horizontally near the top. The shadow of the rod fell just to the left of being straight down. Lunch time.

Stepping out of his doorway and pulling the double door shut, Shalem cast an amused eye on a frazzled-looking young woman with bright feathers in her black hair, holding a big bag of dried gourds as she frantically tried to find a space to lay down her cloth with the others in the marketplace. He wasn't surprised when no one would budge over for her. There had been times when, as a newcomer to the market, he too had overslept; and like her, he had found no sympathy in the eyes of the others. A few, by their bleary faces, had probably arrived to stake out the best spaces when the light of day was just barely hitting the sundial; there had already been a sizeable gathering when he arrived, and the sun had still been relatively low in the sky. Thankfully, he didn't see any black eyes or bruises among them, which was not always the case. It was always so embarrassing to the older craftsmen when the town watch had to be called in to break up a marketplace territory dispute.

He smiled with nostalgia at his low beginnings and gratitude towards those friends he had made among the more established vendors. Notwithstanding his skill, without them putting in a good word for him he would never have had the opportunity to purchase a stall when one became vacant. No, he mused as he tied his doors closed, he didn't miss those days of cutthroat competition at all. Plus, having a booth allowed Shalem to close up shop and feel somewhat secure about his tools when business took him elsewhere, or, like now, when it was time to buy lunch.

"Good day to you, Shalem!" sang out the weaver in the booth next to him.

"And a good day to you, Zoram," replied Shalem in kind. He liked Zoram; they had known each other since they were boys of nine years old and had played together often when they were growing up.

"I wasn't sure you were in today," Zoram went on. "I haven't heard a peep from you all morning."

"Well, I was carving louder than usual, but it's no wonder you didn't hear me; your loom is so noisy it blocks out even the sound of the thunder when Shuz rolls through the heavens on his chariot of lightning!" returned Shalem. They laughed together at their running joke. "Well," he said to excuse himself, "I need to get down to Taara's stall and back before any customers arrive."

"Taara!" exclaimed Zoram in mock surprise. "What business do you have with him?"

"Lunch," Shalem said dryly.

"Did Kalara not give you enough bread today?"

"I deserve a treat now and then," he defended.

"I know," was the laughing reply. "You needn't justify yourself. Be off with you, then!" Zoram waved him off and turned his attention back to the panel of cloth on his loom.

* * *

Kalara's bread was quite good, thought Shalem warmly, as he returned and sat down to lunch. But… He inhaled deeply over the gourd, cut in half and filled with stew. It was even better with a little meat to go with it.

Surprisingly, he was able to finish lunch without anyone coming into his shop. As he mopped up the last of the stew with Kalara's bread, he listened through the wall to Zoram haggling with a customer who wanted to purchase a floor-length curtain. The walls of his shop were made of staves, as straight as he could find, lashed to a framework and leaving hardly any gaps in between. Before he remodeled, his stall, like all the others in the marketplace, had had so many chinks in the walls due to the crookedness of the sticks used, that they were – to his woodworker's offended eye - practically transparent. So, over time he had carefully set aside some straighter staves which he then used to rebuild his walls to be much tighter.

When Shalem asked for permission from Moromni, the basketmaker who owned the stall to the left of Shalem's, he had shrugged eloquently and said it was fine with him, that Shalem could do what he wished to the wall. Zoram, on the other hand, had complained good-naturedly about Shalem trying to hide from him, or perhaps from the noise of his loom, but ended up helping him replace the wall between their stalls one day when business was slow. Shalem was quite happy with the result. As an artisan who had just opened a shop of his own, it had been very good and visible advertising. And even though it didn't muffle the sound any, something he good-naturedly needled Zoram about regularly, he still appreciated the extra measure of privacy at his work, however small.

After lunch, Shalem's first customer was a broad-shouldered man he had seen around the city and had never met, but Shalem had guessed that he was probably a farmer from out of town, as his skin was toned somewhat darker than the already copper hue of the shop owners who spent most of their time in the shade of their stalls. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need a yoke, for use on my farm," the big man explained. "I have seen them for sale at the larger market in the city of Lemuel, where I travel occasionally to sell my vegetables, but the vendors there have not made any that were comfortable for my shoulders, and I visit there so infrequently that it is not practical for me to commission one to fit. My previous yoke broke when I was clearing a new field and overloaded it with stones. I know your reputation of making strong tools, so I have come to you."

"Well," mused Shalem, considering the man's build and how big a piece of wood he would need, "with a stature as large as yours I can understand why you found none to fit. Let me measure you, and then we can talk of pricing." He picked up a long notched rod he had been using as a measuring tool for several months. Once the rod had enough notches and etched notations that it was too confusing to use any further, it would join the woodpile at his home and he would find another. He laid it flat across the man's shoulder blades with one end at the outside of his arm, and made a notch at the edge of the opposite arm. "You want a tougher yoke, you need harder wood, and harder wood is tougher work. I should think it will be worth at least an amnor. Or a seon, if you prefer," he added, citing the gold equivalent of the first silver coin.

The man scoffed. "An amnor is far too much. A shiblon is a far better price."

Picking up on the farmer implying he didn't use gold, Shalem continued haggling in silver currency. "A shiblon? No, were I to make a yoke worth merely a shiblon it would quickly join its brother on the woodpile. I won't do it for less than three shiblons."

"Two," countered the farmer quickly. "One senum."

Shalem considered. "One senum and one shiblum."

"Done." They clasped hands. "I come into town once a week."

Shalem smiled. "Then I will have it ready for you next week, barring any difficulty obtaining the wood. Two weeks at the latest."

"And I will bring my silver." The farmer turned to leave.

"I would be very happy," called Shalem, causing the farmer to turn back, "if instead of one senum and one shiblum you could pay the price as two shiblons and two leahs. I find the smaller silver coins more convenient for everyday purchases."

The farmer nodded. "That will be no trouble. A good day to you."

Shalem spent the early afternoon doing business with one customer after another. He bid good day to the latest one, groaning behind his polite smile at the prospect of having to fill the order of a pair of buckets, and turned back to his carving. He looked up as another shadow fell across the doorway almost immediately, but it was merely Taarahah, the lunch vendor's son, come to collect the gourd from Shalem's meal, so it could be washed and reused the next day.

* * *

It had been a long day of work at his booth, and Shalem was tired. He sent his last customer, one of the local stonemasons, off with his commission, a hefty block-and-tackle, and bid him good evening. He began wiping off his tools and safely stowing them in his leather bag to carry home. The main square of the City of Ishmael was quietly abuzz as merchants and vendors were finishing up last-minute business before closing up shop like himself. The orange light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the marketplace, and the shadow of the pole on the sundial was nearly horizontal. With his back to the door, he moved to clear up the scraps of wood that had collected during the day, listening to the idle chatter around him. He suddenly heard four or five quick footsteps and was tackled from behind in an embrace.

"Papa, Papa! How was your day?"

"Abish," admonished Shalem's wife, Kalara, as she hurried after their daughter. "Behave."

"It's all right, dear," Shalem chuckled. Lowering himself to one knee, he looked his eight-year-old daughter in the eyes, making sure to put on a serious mask as he knelt to her level. "Abish, do you know the rules of the shop?"

"No running with the tools and don't leave any customer unattended because they could be a Nephite in disguise an' we can't trust 'em," she rattled off dutifully.

"That's not quite as I remember, but close enough," Shalem said, carefully keeping the smile from his face. "And what's the rule just for _you_?"

Dark eyes suddenly downcast, Abish mumbled, "No surprising Papa when he's holding his tools."

"Abish, was I holding my tools when you came in?" Her eyes screwed shut as she searched her memory.

"No, you were gathering the wood scraps for our fire tonight." As she realized this, she looked up into his eyes hopefully.

"Exactly." Pausing a long moment, he continued, "So, you can surprise me all you want, my little hummingbird." At his use of her pet name, her smile returned, his broke free, and they shared a hug. "Now," he said as he stood, "it's your job tonight, since you're here, to gather the scraps and sweep up the shavings from today's work. The bag is on the post."

"Okay, Papa!" She ran to get the rush-woven bag to carry the wood scraps home for the night.

Finally turning to Kalara who was looking on with a smile, Shalem said, "It's wonderful to see you, too, dear." He moved to her, gave her a warm kiss, and began packing his tools as she watched their daughter work.

"You silly man," Kalara said fondly. "Finish cleaning up. I need to return to tend our dinner. You know Noah is home alone. I would have stayed but _someone_," she sent a mock glare at Abish, who giggled while struggling with the large and unwieldy broom, "_insisted_ that we come to see Daddy at work."

"Noah will still be alive when we return," Shalem placated jokingly. "A boy of eleven can't knock the house down by himself."

"No, but he can eat enough for a grown man, and still have room for more. I ordered him to stay away from the fire, but he's a growing boy and often forgets what we ask, favoring his stomach."

"Yes, dear." Shalem tied his toolbag shut, then reached over to Abish's bag and tipped the last wood fragment in. "Abish, which bag will you carry? I'll take my tools if you carry the wood."

She eyed his heavy leather bag. "Can I take your bag, Papa?"

"Are you sure? It's so heavy, I'd better carry it." Her father's eyes twinkled as he exaggerated a groan and lifted the bag to his shoulder.

"No, I can do it, I'm strong enough," Abish protested.

"Are you sure, Abish?"

"If you put it on my shoulders, Papa, I can carry it!" Abish insisted.

Shalem hesitated, looking over Abish's head to Kalara. At her smile and nod, he agreed. "Very well. But stay close to me so you won't fall down."

"I won't fall, Papa!"

He smiled and carefully lowered the heavy bag to her shoulder, making sure the shoulder strap crossed her chest. Swinging the comparatively light bag of wood to his own shoulder, they left the shop.

Shalem and Kalara each grabbed one of the double doors that opened inward from the street and pulled them shut. Three lengths of rope hung from each door and he tied them together with simple but strong knots. He wasn't particularly worried about thieves; he was a woodworker, by Rahama! The townspeople saw him carry his tools away every day; what else could he have in his shop to steal? However, no harm was ever done by being too careful.

Instead of tying all the ropes in a regular square knot, he made one of them different by bending one rope in half and threading its mate through so that the leaders came out on opposite corners. Then he busied himself equally over the other two knots, so any observer wouldn't know which if any were different. Superficially, all three looked the same, especially in the dark – his father had taught him the special knot, calling it the 'Thieves Knot,' laughing that if a thief tried to tie it back the way it was, they would tie the common knot, and then, upon his return, he would know if anyone had entered the shop during the night.

As Shalem finished and turned away, he caught Kalara grinning at him. In the early months of owning his shop, she had had a small laugh over his precaution, pointing out that the special knot untied so differently that any thief with a leah's worth of common sense would know something was amiss, and make sure to learn the trick and fix it properly when they left. Privately, Shalem could see her point, but somehow the little ritual gave him comfort.

Of course, if he had the inclination or the money he could hire a guard, but a reliable night guard cost a good seon every week and he didn't have that kind of gold just lying around. Besides, the walls and doors of his stall were simply staves lashed together, so he figured that a determined thief with a sharp knife could break in no matter what he did. Thankfully the brigands tended to strike travelers in the countryside and leave shops in Ishmael proper alone. Mostly.

He and Kalara watched Abish totter under the heavy load, which probably weighed half of what she did, but she didn't fall. Shalem rested a guiding hand on Abish's shoulder to give her strength as well as to know if she began to lean too far. Kalara noticed and softly kissed his cheek. He gave her a warm smile, which she returned, and he would have taken her hand had his not been occupied with keeping the bag of wood securely on his shoulder.

On their way home they passed rows of houses, watching the groups of playing children thinning out as they were called in for dinner by ones and twos. Even this close to the center of town, the huts were well-spaced to allow for small vegetable gardens. The majority of the people in Ishmael, like in any city, were farmers and worked in the community fields outside of town, but it was nice to be able to grow herbs or some of the more uncommon fruits and vegetables that the large farms didn't bother with. One of the houses they passed even had a pair of pineapple bushes. Shalem had been considering planting a fruit tree, but he didn't have the time to teach Noah how to care for it, and besides, their garden wasn't really big enough for a mature tree.

After a five-minute walk, they reached their neighborhood on the outskirts of town. Coming within sight of their hut, Abish broke into a labored jog. "Noah, Noah!" she called as she entered the hut and collapsed on the ground, allowing her to wriggle out of the shoulder strap. "I carried Papa's tools—" she let out a small grunt as she collapsed on the ground and ducked out from under the shoulder strap "—all the way back from the shop all by myself!"

Noah looked up to see his family entering the hut and quickly moved away from the fire where he had been about to snatch a small piece of roasting quail. He wasn't fast enough, though, that Kalara didn't see, and he shrank under his mother's sharp glare. However, he was apparently unsure whether the unspoken reprimand was for filching food or for indifference to his sister's achievement, because he quickly said, "That's great, Abish." Shalem knew that Noah had been able to accomplish the same feat for several years, and was pleased that he would acknowledge Abish in this way without prompting. Well, mostly without prompting.

Kalara was in her element now, as Shalem moved his tools from the middle of the floor where Abish dropped them to the corner of the room, out of the way. She lifted the two quail from the fire. "Noah, could you get the bread from the basket?" she asked.

Noah went over to the breadbasket and loosened the drawstring. "How much, Mama?"

"The partial loaf, plus another whole one; the other two are for breakfast and your father's lunch tomorrow," Kalara replied as she deftly divided each quail into two roughly equal pieces with her cooking knife. Shalem beckoned to Noah, and tore the loaves into large pieces without being asked. The bread was dense, but his strong hands had little problem with it. He and Kalara gave the children their meat and bread, and Shalem traded Kalara bread for bird as they all sat down on the dark-colored rug.

"So what did you do today, Noah?" asked Shalem.

Noah excitedly tried to speak around his mouthful of bread, but was unable to make any clear words. Once again the victim of his mother's disciplinary glare, he hurriedly chewed, swallowed, and tried again, speaking fast. "I went into the forest with Tomar. We saw jaguar tracks, headed eastward toward the land of Middoni!"

Shalem made an interested noise, chewed, and swallowed. Then he said, "The jaguar don't usually come this close to cities, even a small one like Ishmael. Where were you?"

Noah became nervous. "We went into the forest to the north. W-we were careful," he defended at his father's reproachful look.

Shalem lowered the meat from his mouth and spoke gravely. "Noah, you know that Ishmael is on the northern border of our lands. The building of our cities and the farming of our land have driven many wild beasts there, and hunters follow the game. You could easily have been shot."

"But we wore our red headbands, like you told us to, so the hunters could see us," Noah almost whined in protest.

"And it's not only hunters and animals. Only a day's journey through the northern forest is the land of the Nephites. Those pale-skinned barbarians hate Lamanites and would probably be only too glad to capture you and hold you for ransom. Or as a slave! I have told you this before. You must not go into the north forest again without an adult to accompany you. Someone who is competent with a real weapon, not just with a boy's sling like you and Tomar. Someone who can defend you from Nephites-and jaguars," Shalem said sternly.

Noah glowered, but his father wasn't about to back down. Finally he ducked his head and mumbled, "Yes, Papa."

Shalem said, "I love you, Noah, and I don't want to see you hurt. Please do this for me." Noah nodded reluctantly. "And you did well to remember your headband this time, at least." Shalem turned to Abish and asked, "And how was your day, my little hummingbird?"

Noah, sensing the lightening of the atmosphere, and recovering thanks to Shalem's faint praise, took another large bite from his bread, while Abish giggled and spoke excitedly. "Mama and I worked on letters. I saved it so you could see!"

Abish looked imploringly at her mother, who said, "Go ahead and get it, Abish." She dropped her food onto the flat stone by the fire and darted away from the rug to the other side of the fire. Coming back, she held a thin stone tablet of a light gray color, which was covered in large characters written with a fire-blackened stick. Shalem put down his bread and, taking the tablet, held it up to see by the firelight. Abish's writing was wobbly but legible: "_I want to surprise Papa_."

Her voice was eager as she asked, "Do you like it? I wrote it all by myself, but I had to ask Mama for help with the spelling."

Smiling, Shalem reached over to the fire, pulled out a stick, and tapped it on the dirt floor to dislodge most of the embers. Then he wrote underneath Abish's message and handed the tablet back to her. She sounded the words out carefully.

"Well—done—A—bish." Abish glowed as comprehension caught up with her words. Quickly setting the tablet down, she launched with a hug toward Shalem, who was forced to drop his bread back into his lap to receive her. "Thank you, Papa! Soon I'll be able to write anything! I could even help you at your shop!"

Kalara broke in, "Your father and I are still discussing that."

"That's right," Shalem agreed. "For now, just continue with your lessons. And finish your bread. It's dark now and you need to sleep soon."

As they finished their meal, Shalem told his children about his day. "This morning I worked more on the statue of Shuz that has been commissioned by Gaddoni, the horse trainer. I finished carving his robes today. At noontime I completed that block and tackle I was working on. Just in time, too. Nathanelah, the stonemason, came to pick it up just before you arrived."

Noah asked, "Is he the man whose clothes and hands are always covered in dust?"

Shalem replied, "Yes, that's him."

Abish broke in. "Papa, what are a block and tackle?"

Shalem smiled at Abish's endearing grammatical error. "Noah," he asked, "do you know?"

Noah thought a moment. "Isn't that what lets people lift heavy things all by themselves?" His face lit up in remembrance. "Yes! It is! Because Nathanelah has to work with stone all day, and stone is very heavy!"

"That's right, good memory, Noah," Shalem acknowledged. He turned back toward Abish, and proceeded to describe the implement. By the time she understood what it was, with many hand gestures and a bit of pantomime from Shalem, everyone but him was done eating.

As he finished his dinner, Kalara began to clear up. "Abish, could you take these scraps out to the rubbish heap? Noah, you go with her to help her with the shovel. Make sure you completely cover the top. Remember what happened the last time you left it uncovered." Noah and Abish both wrinkled their noses in remembrance of the rank odor. As they ran outside into the darkness, Kalara rounded on Shalem and said, "And I know you asked me not to do it for them when they forgot, so that they would learn their lesson. But that didn't make the smell any less." She broke into giggles, and Shalem joined her.

Few of their neighbors kept rubbish heaps, as they were easy to forget about and soon began to smell up the air, especially when one added meat scraps. But Shalem insisted on it for two reasons. They were able to sell the enriched soil to their farmer neighbors to turn into their fields before planting, and earn a little extra silver with almost no effort. Also, it gave the children a simple but constant responsibility with... pungent consequences if neglected.

Shalem rolled out the sleeping mats for Noah and Abish, who returned and lay down with a chorus of "Goodnight." Then Kalara made sure there was a pot of water clean and covered for drinking in the morning so she wouldn't have to go to the local well before breakfast, and Shalem banked the fire. They spoke in low voices so as to not keep the children from falling asleep.

"I was impressed with Abish, carrying your tools home."

"Yes, she has a lot of determination. I think she walked the last stone's throw on will alone."

They rolled out their mat a little distance from their children and lay down together. Silence. Then Shalem voiced what he had been thinking about since dinner.

"I really am worried about Noah going into the forest to the north. I'm impressed with how his tracking abilities are developing. But he knows the dangers of traveling in that direction." Shalem sighed. "What should we do if he does it again? Would you be willing to keep him with you for a day or two?"

"I could have him load up the rubbish heap to take to the fields. It's getting about time to clear it up and start over," Kalara replied with a smile in her voice. "And I could always use some extra help on wash day."

Shalem inwardly praised his wife for her cleverness. They both knew that the children, especially Noah, probably weren't quite asleep, and could hear their conversation even over the sound of the nocturnal bugs. Better yet, they probably didn't realize that their parents knew they were still awake, which gave the eavesdropping added effect. This would be quite a deterrent. Every word she said being absolutely true only helped.

The silence stretched on again. Then Shalem kissed his wife and with a whispered "Good night, I love you," she snuggled into his side and they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Shalem got up with the sun, as was his habit. He relaxed and watched his sleeping children as Kalara readied a simple breakfast of bread and some fruit that the children had found the day before. Aside from a whispered "Good morning" and a soft kiss, the quiet of the dawn was only disturbed by faint sounds from nearby families and birdsong from the nearby trees. Comfortable silence hung between husband and wife as they leisurely prepared for the day.

Despite his relaxed posture against the wall, Shalem's hands were not idle. He retrieved his small carving knife from his toolbag and picked up his latest side project: a modest-sized idol of Rahama, the particular Lamanite god that he worshipped with his family.

In the hierarchy of Lamanite deities, Rahama was farther down on the list than, say, Shuz, but Shalem wanted Noah and Abish to grow up knowing how to be loving and kind, and those were the characteristics that Rahama embodied. He had finished the figure's robe the day before, with bare feet just barely showing at the bottom, and now turned his attention to the round blank space he had left to mark the location of the face. The face was the most important part, he reasoned, and he wanted everything else in place before attempting such a monumental task as trying to capture the visage of a god in mortal wood.

He had carved the face of Rahama before; in fact, the first time had been the very first idol he had carved, just after their wedding twelve years before. It had been a larger copy of a smaller figure they had received as a wedding present, and had quickly been exchanged for gold when the captain of the watch had happened by his rug in the center of the market. This one would be of a comparable size, almost as long as from the elbow to the end of the hand, but was his own original design. Shalem carved idols on commission fairly often, but this statue was for his own house, his own family, and his own devotion, and he wanted it to be perfect.

Finally the sounds of morning and the sunlight seeping through the walls of the hut woke Noah and Abish. "Good morning, Papa, good morning, Mama," they chorused. Each used the dipper to take a drink from the pot of water, and accepted their quarter-loaf of bread and section of papaya.

It was a beautiful day.

* * *

A/N: This is my first story. How am I doing?

I'm trying to convey the setting as being in Central America, almost certainly the setting for most of the Book of Mormon. I'm planning to include a clue about the local latitude in an upcoming chapter. Time frame is about 110 B.C. based on published chronologies.

Part 1 is from Shalem's point of view, then the narrator will shift to Abish herself.

Please defer any questions about the currency system (which I'm going to say the Lamanites borrowed from the Nephites somewhere along the line). I'll explain it as Abish learns it.


	2. The Vision, Ch 2: The Angel

Chapter 2 – The Angel

* * *

That afternoon, Shalem bade farewell to a woman who had come to pick up a pair of arm bangles. While he wasn't generally in the business of ornaments and finery, it sometimes made for an interesting diversion. Just then, Gaddoni entered his shop and greeted him jovially.

"Shalem, best artisan in the Land of Ishmael!"

Shalem smiled at Gaddoni's generous evaluation of his skills, but inwardly felt that it was a little _too_ generous. The city of Ishmael itself had a relatively small population, at least compared to a larger city like Lemuel, and he was one of only three woodworkers living in the city limits. The land of Ishmael, extending the better part of a day's journey all around the city and encompassing several small villages, had substantially more people, and artisans, and he personally thought that several of them turned out work that surpassed his skill. He swallowed his objection, though, and smiled. It was bad form to refuse a sincere compliment.

"Master Gaddoni. What brings you here?"

"What else, but to inspect the progress of the figure of the great storm god, Shuz, which I have commissioned you to craft for me?"

"Of course! I was working on him just this morning, come and see!" Shalem motioned over to the far side of the stall, about two rods away. He had chosen a light wood that had dark grain through it to represent the figure of Shuz, with his swirling clouds and bright lightning. He was clothed in thunderclouds and stood almost waist-high, and was one of the largest idols Shalem had ever carved. Nothing less for Gaddoni, the most successful horse trainer, and one of the wealthiest private citizens, in the Land of Ishmael.

"But surely he should be complete by now, it has been three weeks!" Gaddoni blustered, gesturing at the blank face and the feet that were still buried in wood. "What has given you so much trouble?"

Shalem was very glad that Gaddoni's anger was just an act. The man, though nearly always jovial, was a good actor, and though he would rage and stamp his feet from time to time, no one could recall ever seeing him genuinely upset. "Master Gaddoni," he replied smoothly, "I wanted the very best wood, so I waited a week after your visit until my monthly journey to the land of Lemuel, in the borders by the seashore, so I could purchase wood from trees that do not commonly grow in the land of Ishmael. In the city of Lemuel, among the strong timbers being readied to build ships, I found this beautiful wood and knew it would be perfect for the aspect of Shuz—-whom you hold in such high esteem."

Gaddoni, as Shalem expected, quickly dropped his look of outrage and smiled broadly. "Just so, just so. Do not let me keep you from your work, craftsman. I will visit again this time next week with my son, Gaddonihah, to inspect how you have finished Shuz, and then load him up and take him to his new place in my home."

Shalem inclined his head and agreed, "It is well. I will be finished by then. And do not forget our agreed price."

"Oh yes, for such a masterpiece as he is sure to be, I feel lucky to have arranged to pay simply two ezroms of silver. Other craftsmen, less scrupulous than yourself," he leaned in and murmured conspiratorially, "would have charged me three." He leaned back. "I will pay you when we come to pick up the statue. My pocket will be much lighter," he chuckled, "but I will sleep deeper with the knowledge that Shuz is keeping my stables safe from harm by wind and thunder. A wonderful day to you, my friend." He turned to leave the shop.

"To you as well," replied Shalem warmly, following him to the door. After Gaddoni departed and his booming voice moved down the street, Shalem hurriedly closed the doors and fastened them on the inside with a weak latch. He had been receiving customers and entertaining visitors off and on all afternoon and had not had the opportunity to relieve himself for several hours, so he turned to the rear of the shop, reaching for his chamber pot.

When he first opened his shop in the Ishmael marketplace, he realized quickly that he could not leave it unattended at random points during the day, and his neighbors should not have to keep watch for him. Therefore, his first major business investment not directly related to his trade was the earthenware pot with its snug lid. He would have used a tightly woven bag or basket, were he not worried about the smell in the heat of the shop; though pottery was rather a luxury item, he felt the chamber pot was worth the three senines of gold he had paid for it.

He was also glad that he had time to relieve himself before Gid came by. Every day, in late afternoon, old Gid would make the rounds with his donkey cart and the artisans and vendors could pay him a leah of silver every other day for him to collect chamber pots, dump them out, and return them in time for closing. It was demeaning work to be sure, especially for the old man whom Shalem could remember had enjoyed a successful career as a professional scribe, but Gid's fingers were no longer nimble and he was glad for any money. It was very little silver, but with so many shopkeepers paying for the service Gid occasionally had some extra funds to hire out the work of digging the disposal pits to the young men of the city, so as to save his back and his pride. What was left of them, anyway.

Shalem finished adjusting his clothes and closed the pot tightly, setting it aside. Sitting on his stool, he took advantage of the momentary quiet afforded by closed doors to run over his list of commissions in his head.

The yoke for the farmer. Three wide bowls to serve food – that commission was from one of the stewards of King Menipacha, the local monarch, and would give his reputation a huge boost if they found the workmanship sufficiently fine. Needless to say, he was being very careful with that order. Two stools for other shopkeepers. Another block and tackle for Nathanelah, who never knew when one of his would break, and had a standing order for a spare. Two buckets – he would need to visit Jacob, the blacksmith, soon and negotiate for iron rings. And finally Shuz, who was looking more impressive by the day. The rest were small things that he could easily do in the mornings before the children woke, or even while walking to and from market.

Satisfied, he moved to open the doors, noting absently that the sunlight filtering through his roof was getting brighter than usual, when he suddenly saw a sharp shadow against the wall of his shop. No, he saw his _own _shadow being cast against the _inside_ wall of his shop. **"Shalem."** He spun around.

There, standing in his little shop, was a man. Light was emanating from every feature. Shalem immediately assumed that he was in the presence of a god, and dropped to his knees with eyes downcast. Of all the stories he had heard from his friends about receiving aid from the gods or being punished by them for wrongdoing, none had ever described a personal visitation. As he saw the man's feet, which were bare and standing about a hand's breadth above the floor as if on solid ground, he wondered what this deity wanted with him and why he had deigned to visit. But he did not ask. He did not want to risk offending him.

**"****Shalem. Be not afraid. Arise, and stand forth."** The voice was warm and comforting, not strange or frightening as he had always imagined a god's voice to be. For all their purported involvement in daily life, the gods of the Lamanites had always been, in Shalem's imagination, not quite human. This voice, apart from some awkward speech patterns and odd inflection, was just like any voice he might hear in the streets of town. As the personage spoke, though, Shalem noticed another difference. Even though he spoke quietly, the words pierced him, striking his heart with great force. He had never felt this way before. He knew that he would instinctively want to do whatever the figure said.

He rose to his feet slowly, taking in the appearance of the person that he somehow now knew meant him no harm. The man was clothed in a loose white robe that was long enough to almost reach his wrists and ankles. It was whiter than anything he had ever seen. His hair was white, too, which surprised Shalem, because the man's face was not old. His complexion was much lighter than Shalem's own. Some part of him recognized that with his light skin the man looked rather like one of those Nephite barbarians. Another part of him denounced that suggestion as utterly ludicrous; this glorious personage couldn't have anything to do with those liars.

But suddenly none of those details were important as his eyes caught hold of the piercing gaze that was directed at him, and he couldn't help but return it. The brown eyes of the figure, much lighter than Shalem's own, burned into his very soul. He finally found his voice.

"Who are you?" he asked, feeling surprisingly calm. "Why are you here?"

The man replied, **"I am an angel, a messenger from God."**

This is different, thought Shalem. He never knew the gods had messengers. "May I ask, from which god?"

**"****He who sent me is not a god as the gods of thy people, made of wood or stone and crafted by the artifice of man; He is the One and True God, the most Eternal Father."**

Shalem was at a loss for words. His racing thoughts had determined that the messenger was from Rahama, his personal patron deity, or perhaps from Shuz, and he was about to be smitten for carving him incorrectly. But of everything that could have happened, he had not expected _that_.

The angel's filled the void. **"The Lord God has seen thy heart and the grace and equity with which thou treatest thy family and thy fellow man. I am sent to tell thee that He is pleased with thy conduct before Him, and He doth commend thee for raising thy family in righteousness."**

Shalem's heart swelled with the pronouncement. A messenger from the gods commended him for his actions and told him he was doing well! He began to acknowledge the compliment. "I have done my best to teach my children by the example of Rahama—"

This time the angel cut him off. **"Thy children know what is right and what is wrong by **_**thy**_** example. Not by the example of an idol crafted by thy hands. They see thee and thy actions and emulate them. I am come to tell thee that God is pleased with thee and thy house, but not all. For thou dost, with thy house, worship idols, false gods and the images thereof, and forsake the worship of Him, the True and Living God, and the only God."**

Shalem was really having a hard time with this. He stumbled backwards until he fell heavily onto his stool, but somehow he maintained eye contact with the man standing in the air. So he, Shalem, was a good man, but the gods that he had been following in order to determine how to be a good man were… false? not real? …dead? No, they had never existed. Then who was this new god and why had nobody ever heard of him? And how had his family been so much more fortunate than their neighbors, if the gods to whom they appealed weren't even there? He wanted to ask, but had no idea how to ask it.

"**The Lord God doth command thee at this time to remove the idols and images of these false gods from thy home and thy family, for He saith, 'Thou shalt have no other gods before Me. Neither shalt thou make unto thee any graven image or any likeness of any thing, to bow down to them to serve them, for I am the Lord thy God, who giveth thee breath and blesseth thee with every thing that thou hast.'"** The angel's voice had taken on a deeper tone as he quoted the words of the god—no, the God—who sent him, and when he finished, he paused momentarily before continuing. **"Shalem, the Lord has blessed thee because of thy conduct and thy desire to do that which is kind and good. It is His will that thou cease thy worship of the idols and false gods of thy people, that He may bless thee and thy family with greater abundance."**

Shalem was astonished. Without even asking the question, the angel had given him the answer he sought. That was it, then. His blessings hadn't come from Rahama, not from Puchah, not Elrah or Shuz. A God he had never heard of was the one that had been blessing him all along, and he had never once given sacrifice, never prayed to Him in either supplication or thanks! And for a God to send such a being of glory and power as this angel before him as a _messenger_, meant the God was even _more_ glorious and powerful! The figure before him already surpassed anything Shalem had ever carved or even imagined.

Shalem would not have believed this news true or even possible, but the words of the angel were imbued with force, a force that something inside him responded to, wanting to obey. He was torn, as a large part of him was resisting, wanting to stay in the paths he knew, but even more of him wanted to follow the directions he was receiving. As he listened to the message, he tried to figure out which part of him was responding to the angel. When he found it, it hit him hard. The same part of him that loved his family and wanted to do good to others was telling him that the words of the messenger were true.

Shalem needed to know more about the Being that sent this angel. If he were _anything_ like the gods he had grown up hearing about, He would have motives for blessing him all this time without any reward. Perhaps He would want payment now. Shalem sincerely hoped not. He opened his mouth and took a breath to ask.

**"****You wish to know why the Lord has blessed you through thy life." ** The angel anticipated his question even more blatantly than before, causing Shalem to catch his breath and gape at the figure. In return, he received the first smile since the messenger had arrived. It was small, but it was there, and the angel let it linger a moment, as if in amusement, before continuing. **"He is thy God, thy Lord and Redeemer, the Creator of worlds without number. He is the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob, thy fathers. He is the God of thy people, though they worship Him not, and he is the God of the Nephites, thy brethren. He is God over the whole Earth. And thou art His son."**

Shalem sat on his stool, electrified. The voice inside him _knew_ it was true. He could not have torn his eyes away from the angel's even if he wanted to.

**"****-Not after the manner of the flesh," **clarified the angel,** "but after the manner of the spirit. He is thy Father in Heaven, and His love for thee is great. It is His desire that thou shalt obey all that He commandeth thee and thy family, that He may bless thee further."** The angel dropped his smile, becoming somber once more. **"Therefore thou must cease this practice of idolatry."**

The messenger paused. Shalem asked quickly, "What of my trade? My family needs, I mean, the statues of the gods are a large source of my income."

The angel replied, **"The Lord knows of thy trade, and thy livelihood, and he also knows of the hard-heartedness of the Lamanites, thy brethren, in persisting in their idolatrous worship. He shall permit thee to make thine own decisions in thy trade, only if thou wilt carefully follow the dictates of righteousness and stay within the bounds the Lord hath set for thee. But thou must not bring these idols into thine household."** His voice turned more stern as he issued a warning.

**"****If thou wilt ignore the commandment of the Lord in this thing, He shall withdraw His support and His blessings from thee. Forasmuch as thou hast heard the word of the Lord and have received a sure knowledge of His commandments, thou wilt be held accountable for the light and understanding which thou hast received."**

Shalem sat, stunned. These were dire consequences indeed. His mind was racing, but he could only think of one other thing to ask. In his astonishment, he could only get two words out, at a hoarse whisper. "Why me?"

**"****The Lord hath chosen thee at this time, and hath sent me to thee bearing His word, because the time is not far distant that the Lord will proceed to do a marvelous work in this land; yea, thou hast been chosen to prepare thy family, that they may assist in the great work that the Lord will cause to be wrought among thy people. Inasmuch as they are righteous, thy family shall be tools in the hands of the Lord to bring to light the truths of God among this people. **

**"****The day will come, but is not yet, saith the Lord, that the name of God shall be known among this people, and they will turn from their wickedness and idolatry and become a pure and delightsome people. If thou and thy family wilt remain righteous, the Lord shall keep thee and preserve thy family to serve Him, bringing His word among this people."**

At these words, the light started to gather from the corners of the room, and coalesce around the immediate person of the angel. He began to ascend, and Shalem halfway thought he would take the ceiling with him. But it was almost as if a passage opened up directly into the heavens that bypassed all physical barriers, and this path the angel took rapidly until he was out of sight.

Shalem found himself looking up at the mottled sunlight coming through the cloth ceiling of the shop. Odd, he couldn't remember falling off his stool. He lay there for a moment and listened to the racket coming from Zoram's loom, but was roused from his position by a slow knock at the door. Rising on unsteady legs, he unlatched the door and came face to face with old Gid. He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face tiredly. Was it that late in the day already?

"Begging your pardon, master Shalem, and I'm sorry to disturb you, but your door's been closed since I started my rounds today, and you owe old Gid a leah of silver for collection yesterday and today."

Shalem stepped aside as he opened the door, but he couldn't even work up the energy to smile at the old man's odd habit of referring to himself in third person; people joked that it was all those years as court scribe for King Menipacha, having to write his own name so many times that he eventually began speaking like that. Putting on a busy air that looked almost out of place on the aging man, Gid moved around Shalem, who was still leaning on the door, and entered the shop to collect the chamber pot.

"All too often the men in town try to cheat me, they say 'Oh, I paid the last two days in a row, Gid,' but if they think they can trick old Gid they have another think coming. My mind still works, same as it always did." Gid carefully placed the vessel into his low cart as he spoke and turned around, holding out an expectant hand to Shalem. Without thinking, Shalem silently fished in his purse and pulled out the smallest silver coin he had, and handed it to Gid, who finally sensed that Shalem was not feeling up to small talk. Gid tucked the coin away in his own purse, picked up his small switch, and moved off with a "Good day," driving his old donkey down the street.

Shalem shook himself out of his stupor. He hardly realized Gid had even come by. He didn't know if he was thinking very fast or if he was even thinking at all; he just knew that he had to get away. He mechanically packed his tools, even though it was just late afternoon, and closed his shop early.

There was a spot he always went to be alone and think; it was out in the woods. He had to get there, had to escape the noise of the marketplace. In his haste to leave his stall he neglected to even think about his security measures and tied simple knots on each rope on his double doors. He didn't hear the cries of greeting and curious questions from the people around him. Even Zoram asking if he was feeling all right barely registered. He left the city and turned southeast, still carrying his leather bag.

About ten minutes' walk into the forest was a hidden alcove on a ledge by a small waterfall. He hefted himself up a tree growing next to the cliff and stepped from a branch onto the ledge, walking around a bend towards the waterfall as the ledge on the cliff face narrowed and widened again. Here he was cut off from the world; no one could see him unless they looked straight down from the top of the cliff, and few sounds could cut through the noise of the waterfall just a rod away. He dropped his tool bag with a clatter and sat down heavily, leaning his head against the rock and sighing deeply. His mind, seemingly frozen since he had found himself on his back on the floor, finally began to work.

He had been visited. No one else ever had, even after years of prayers and sacrifices and devotions to every god the Lamanites had ever worshipped. That was because it was a messenger sent from another God his people had never heard of. The messenger, the angel, said that God was his _Father_, and that he was pleased with him, but that in order for his family to continue to be blessed, they had to stop worshiping the gods of their people.

If any man on the street, even Zoram, his closest friend, had told him what he had learned today, he would not, could not have believed. But an angel? A being of power such as that could not be ignored.

He instinctively felt the message was true. And think of the blessings in store – to be a knife, a chisel in the hand of God Himself, and his family with him!

On the other hand, his mind balked at some major problems. The angel had called the Nephites, those pale-skinned barbarians, his brothers! Shalem wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but he knew he didn't feel good. It had sounded like the Nephites were actually worshiping God already – what was it the messenger had said? God was God of the Lamanites "even though they don't worship Him." And the visitor had made no such comment about the Nephites.

Now he had been chosen, out of everyone in the Land of Ishmael, to receive this visitor. He still wasn't sure why. The whole experience was so alien that even though he felt it was true, he couldn't believe it. Not yet. He didn't know if he ever could. But now that he knew the truth, or what could possibly be the truth but definitely didn't match what he had believed his whole life, could he ever go back to how he had been before?

Shalem didn't know.

As he sat against the rock wall, thoughts chasing each other around his head, Shalem suddenly saw another glowing man descending the same way the visitor to his shop had ascended; in a moment he could tell it was the same angel. The alcove he sat in brightened as the angel fully appeared, once again standing before him, suspended just above the ground. Their gaze connected, as before, but this time Shalem was able to notice other details of the messenger's appearance that had escaped him before, like the way his eyes shone even when he wasn't smiling, and how his hands were quite wide, and almost as calloused as Shalem's own. The angel spoke.

**"****Shalem. I bring a message from God. He is not a god as the gods worshipped by thy people, made of wood or stone and crafted by the artifice of man; He is the One and True God, the most Eternal Father. He has seen thy heart and the grace and equity with which thou treatest thy family and thy fellow man. I am sent to tell thee that He is pleased with thy conduct before Him, and He doth commend thee for raising thy family in righteousness."**

Shalem just sat and listened. He didn't know what it was that he had been expecting, but it wasn't a verbatim repetition. The angel's speech was almost identical, word for word, to his previous message. The only differences were due to the question-and-answer style during the first delivery that was absent this time around. But he figured that there was a reason that the angel was delivering the exact same message a second time, and concentrated with strict attention.

When the angel once again said, **"He is thy Father in Heaven, the Father of thy spirit, and thou art His son, and His love for thee is great,"** Shalem found that he was just as spellbound as he had been the first time. And as he continued without interruption, the messenger reiterated the fact that Shalem would now be held accountable for the commandments that he had received, this time calling it **"an eternal law." **

The visitor finally paused. Shalem recognized the end of the message. And he believed it. Before, he had been in turmoil and hadn't known what to think, but now, he believed the angel's words. But even though he was sure he would follow the messenger's directions, several things still bothered him. This was his only opportunity to ask questions before the angel left again. He needed answers.

"Why me?" he blurted hurriedly. "Why have _I_ been chosen, instead of someone else?" He suddenly realized how that must sound to the messenger, so he frantically tried to backpedal. "I mean, I'm not resenting it or anything, I-I-I feel honored—"

The angel silenced him with a gesture and, using the same hand, pointed towards Shalem's leather bag that was sitting on the rock nearby. **"Behold, thou art a woodworker. Dost thou not have many tools? And when thou findest that one of thy knives hath lost its edge, dost thou not reach for another? When thou needest thy carving to be delicate and refined, dost thou not choose the blade that doth best suit thy task? But if that blade hath worn dull, is there not another knife among thy tools upon which thou mayest depend? **

**"****So is the Lord: He hath chosen thee to help Him accomplish His work among the people. Thou art best suited to His purpose, thee and thy family. But do not suppose that if thou fail in thy charge, He may not choose another to do His work."**

Shalem licked his lips, suddenly nervous. "What would happen to me? If I should fail?"

The angel looked at him encouragingly. **"Know this: that the Lord giveth no commandment unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He commandeth them. If thou wilt trust in the Lord, and press forward in Him, He will lighten thy burdens and illuminate thy path. This is His promise to thee, and to all men. **

**"****However, if thy choice is to set aside His counsels and set at naught His promises to thee, then the covenant which He doth make with thee this day is broken. In that day, it would be better for thee if thou had not heard these His words to thee, for He will withdraw His blessings and His support from thee, every whit. He will leave thee to thyself, to draw upon thine own strength, as do thy brethren. And He will take away the light and guidance which thou hast previously enjoyed, as thou wilt have proven thyself unworthy of His counsel."**

Shalem considered this. "So," he began haltingly, "if I try my best and do everything God tells me to, I'm almost guaranteed to succeed?"

The angel smiled again, and he felt in his heart the unmistakable confirmation that that was correct. His soul almost burst with joy. He knew he could go forward with confidence and be sure to succeed. But he had something else to ask.

"One other thing. What did you mean, the Nephites are my brethren? If that's true, why are we always at war?"

The angel paused, as if in thought. Shalem thought that perhaps he would refuse to answer, but then the angel asked, **"Dost thou believe that which I have told thee of the greatness of God, and of the goodness of God, and of His love for thee?"**

Shalem barely hesitated before the answer came to him; his belief was much stronger, having just heard the message a second time. "Yes," he said, nodding. Then he felt awkward just leaving his answer at that; it didn't sound nearly formal enough. He added "I believe your words."

The angel nodded, as if he had come to a decision. **"Knowest thou the history and the origins of thy people, of thy father Lehi who came out of Jerusalem with his family, following the commandment of the Lord?"**

Shalem had heard stories, of course, and knew of Lehi, Nephi, Laman, and the others traveling here from the Land of Jerusalem. As he had been taught as a child, when Father Lehi died, the rule of the family should have passed to the eldest son, Laman, but the youngest, Nephi, had usurped the leadership from his elder brother. Laman, his brother Lemuel, and several of their friends had confronted Nephi about it, and he and his supporters had fled into the wilderness. The Nephites had been at war with the Lamanites from that day to this, and any Nephites found in Lamanite lands were still sentenced to death for being 'children of a liar.'

But with everything Shalem had learned today, he wasn't sure of anything any more. It didn't quite match what the angel had told him, and he had never heard of Lehi being led by God to do anything. He phrased his careful response formally, to alleviate some of the awkwardness he felt conversing with the heavenly figure. "I have heard the story, as it is told among my people, but I fear by what I have learned today that it is in error."

The messenger gave another small smile, and then began his tale. **"Many generations ago, Lehi was a prophet in the land of Jerusalem, beyond the sea, called by God to proclaim the word of the Lord to His people. But the inhabitants of Jerusalem would not hear, and plotted to take away his life. **

**"****Being warned of the Lord, he fled into the wilderness, bringing with him his family, his sons and his daughters. His sons were called, beginning with the eldest, Laman, Lemuel, Sam, and Nephi. He also brought with him a near kinsman, Ishmael, and his family, and a man called Zoram. Most importantly, he had with him the records of his people, engraven upon plates of brass. These contained the words of the Lord to many prophets, and also a genealogy of his fathers.**

**"****His family was not without strife. Nephi loved the Lord, as did his brother Sam, and Zoram, but Laman cared not for sacred things. Lemuel, being weak, followed Laman, as did the sons of Ishmael. Laman murmured often in complaint and attempted several times to take the life of his brother, Nephi.**

**"****After traveling many days in the wilderness, and crossing the ocean in a ship built by the hand of Nephi under direction from God, they sailed out of the West Sea and lived in a land they called Lehi-Nephi. Soon, Lehi died. When the Spirit of the Lord continued to constrain Nephi to call his family to repentance, Laman again tried to murder his brother, and Nephi departed into the wilderness, taking with him his family, and Sam, and Zoram, and their families.**

**"****Nephi was a prophet and guided his people; this land has not yet known a greater. He taught his people to worship the Lord, while Laman and his children forsook their God and turned instead to idolatry. They began to hunt beasts of prey to prove that by their strength they needed not to rely on the Lord. And because of the hatred of Laman for his younger brother who was favored by both the Lord and their father, Lehi, there has been almost continual war for four hundred years."**

The angel looked somewhat sad as he went on, **"Had Laman and Lemuel trusted the Lord as did Nephi, they and their people would not have forsaken the blessings of God. Thou, Shalem, hast reclaimed these blessings for thyself and thy family because of thy righteousness, as has every righteous individual since the creation of the world. And thy family shall receive blessings still greater if they continue in righteousness and follow the commandments of God."**

Shalem was nodding along, following the story. The version he had heard as a boy had obviously been corrupted over the years. He wondered that he was able to accept such a radically different tale than had been told by firelight all his life. But he knew, after this second visit from the heavenly messenger, he would believe in his heart anything the angel said. He didn't know how, but he knew it to be true.

**"****Now go," **concluded the angel, **"return to thy family. Teach them what thou hast learned here. If thy love for them remain true they will heed thy words and one day follow thee into a land of promise."**

By the time the angel had finished speaking, the light in the alcove had already gathered back around him and he was once again ascending.

It was then that Shalem noticed that the sun was quite low in the sky. Abish would be wanting to go to the shop to meet him at sundown, and if she and Kalara found it empty and closed, he knew his wife would worry. Fighting off his fatigue, he hefted his tool bag to his shoulder and began to make his way home to catch them before they left.

Shalem was nervous. Would his family believe him? The children might, easily enough, though Abish would before Noah, he knew.

But he was worried about Kalara. She grew up the daughter of a traveling merchant, and because of her father's long absences when she was young, she and her mother had become quite dependent on their devotions to Aganon, the god of speed and travel. She had trusted Aganon to bring her father back safely, and he always had returned without incident. Strong proof in the mind of a concerned daughter.

It had been hard enough before they were married to convince her to center their family's worship around Rahama instead of Aganon; if he were to tell her that the angel had said that _all_ the gods of the Lamanites were false, and they were to worship another, he doubted she would take the news well. He tried to plan how to present the news to her and the children, racking his brains to figure out how to ease the devastation he knew his wife would feel.

* * *

A/N: Those who have caught any parallels with the experience of Joseph Smith can probably guess at least one of the events of the next chapter. ;)

I worked hard at the angel's sentence syntax. Is it any more or less awkward than you would expect?

I'd ask for bets as to Kalara's reaction, but since I'm posting Chapter 3 at the same time the point is pretty much moot.


	3. The Vision, Ch 3: Kalara

Chapter 3 – Kalara

* * *

The hut came in sight. He saw Abish in the yard, drawing pictures in the dirt with a short stick. He whistled, and she looked toward the familiar sound.

"Papa!" she shouted and ran to him. He smiled broadly and spun her around when she reached him.

"Hello, Abish. How was your day today? Tell me everything," he said, trying to put his usual smile into his voice despite his worry.

Upon hearing him outside, Kalara came to the doorway of the hut. Shalem knew she was well-tuned to his emotions, and when he didn't greet their daughter with the usual 'Hummingbird,' he knew she would know something was amiss. As Abish spoke, he made sure to smile at Kalara in an attempt to let her know it was nothing bad.

"We worked on letters again, and I started making a basket, and Mama and I went to your shop to see you but you were gone! Where did you go, Papa?" Abish rattled off. Her black hair framed her earnest face, her dark eyes wide in her earnestness.

Shalem's eyes shifted from his daughter to his wife. "That's the story of _my_ day," he said. Then he moved his gaze back to Abish, and put his finger softly to the end of her nose. "And it's best left till dinnertime. I had a very important visitor today, so it's a very important story, and it's very important that everyone hear it together." He stood and glanced around. "Where's Noah?"

As Kalara answered, Shalem joined her at the doorway and they stepped together into the hut. "He's off with Tomar again. He should be back soon. I would be very surprised if he were to miss dinner."

Just then, they heard Noah running around the hut towards the door. He came in, breathing deeply, first because he had been running, and then because he smelled dinner. "Hi Mama, hi Papa," he said. Kalara directed him to get their bowls, and he took them and set them around the rug where they would sit down. Shalem walked over to deposit his leather bag in the corner as the other three took their seats, Abish serving the meat and beans while Kalara tore the bread into portions.

When he moved to join them and they were all served and settled, Abish was the first to speak. "Who visited you today, Papa? You said it was someone important."

Noah spoke around a piece of stew meat. "You had an important visitor, Papa? Was it someone from the palace?"

Kalara was looking at Shalem with a slightly puzzled expression as she said, "I think we'd all like to know. We were worried when we saw your shop closed and we asked Zoram where you had gone. He said he didn't know but you looked ill."

"I went out to my thinking place by the waterfall. I..." He set aside his stew so he could think clearly, and took a deep breath. He knew that once he got going, he couldn't stop, and he wanted to make sure he told everything correctly. "Before I start, I want you to promise something," he said as he looked seriously at Kalara, Abish, and Noah in turn. "Promise me that you will let me tell what happened today _my_ way. If you interrupt me I might miss something important."

The children nodded immediately, but Kalara looked at him with wary eyes. "Shalem?" she asked slowly. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing bad, Kalara," he tried to assure her. But if anything, calling her by name in front of the children, when for years she had been "Mama" or a pet name like "Dear" or "Honey," was the exact wrong thing to do, and Shalem winced as she shot him a look fraught with even more suspicion. "Please," he begged. "Please let me tell it. It's important I get it right."

She met his imploring look, and hesitatingly agreed, "All right."

Shalem let out a breath he had been unconsciously holding and ran his hands through his shoulder-length black hair. "Okay. Boy, there's no easy way to say this." Once again he looked around the rug at his family, who were all three focused on him with wide eyes. "I was visited this afternoon by a messenger from... from Heaven."

Everyone had frozen. The only sounds in the hut were the crackling of the fire and the birds singing outside in the twilight. The children gaped at him, Noah holding a spoon suspended before his mouth, before he put it back in the bowl, his appetite forgotten. Kalara leaned back slightly, eyes wide. She softly began, "Was it one of...?" before remembering her agreement to let him talk. She looked at him imploringly.

Shalem shook his head. "He said he wasn't a god, he was simply a messenger. He called himself an angel."

Abish whispered, "What did he look like?"

He easily called up a mental image, having received the visitor twice now. "He had fair skin, and white hair, but he wasn't old. His clothes were whiter than anything I have ever seen. And he was shining! The door to my shop was closed, but it was like I was sitting outside in the sunshine! He was almost as bright as the sun itself, but I could look at him and see him clearly. He wasn't wearing shoes, but he was standing in the air about that far above the floor." Shalem turned toward Abish and spread his fingers apart about a hand's breadth. Despite the gravity of the moment he had added that detail especially for her amusement, and he enjoyed her shocked look as she imagined the sight. "He acted just like any other man, except he spoke very formally, all 'thee's and 'thou's."

Kalara looked just as scared now as Shalem had felt when the angel first appeared in the shop. She wet her lips nervously and asked, "What did he say?"

Shalem hesitated. That was the heart of the matter. And he hadn't yet worked up the courage to broach the actual message, the crux of the story. So he sidestepped the question and answered, "I'll get to that in a moment." At this, Kalara looked genuinely scared. "Nothing bad," he hastened to add, "just... Let me finish. Please." She relaxed marginally and nodded, and he pressed on. "When the angel left, I was exhausted. I was too tired to work. So I closed up shop and went out to my thinking place."

He was talking slowly, trying to get all the details right in his head, and Abish was able to interrupt easily. "We saw that you forgot your special knot, so we tied it for you."

Shalem smiled at her and gave her a soft "Thank you," then turned serious again. "As I walked, I started doubting that it had actually happened at all. I was so tired, I felt like I hadn't slept at all for a week. I thought that maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. When I got to my thinking place, I had barely sat down when the angel appeared again, descending from heaven just like he had in the shop.

"It was then I knew that I hadn't just imagined it. He gave me the same message, word for word." Shalem had a flash of inspiration, as he realized the answer to another of his questions, and added "—so I could remember better. He told me..." He couldn't hesitate any longer, and took the plunge.

"He told me that he didn't come from Rahama, or from Elrah, or any of the gods we know. He said that he was sent by a God who is King of kings and Lord of lords, who created both the earth and the heavens. He said that even though none of the Lamanites worship Him—none of us!—He is our God, too. And he said that this God has a job for us, that God is about to do what he called a 'great and marvelous work' for our people. He didn't say what the work was, but he said that at the end of it, the Lamanites would know of God and would worship Him. Not only that, but our family will be right in the middle of it, whatever it is."

Shalem looked around at his family's wide eyes, noting the wonder in his children's faces contrasting the worry that remained in his wife's. He had been right about her. It would take her a long time. And a lot of love. He took strength from the promise the angel gave him right before he left the second time. He hoped she could accept it. "There's more. He said that God was happy with us because we're kind to each other and those around us, even the people who aren't our friends. And He has been blessing us because of that.

"Every blessing we've received in our lives has been from this God. He's the one who helped me get so good at carving that I could start my own shop. He probably kept you from getting hit by that stray arrow last summer, Noah, and gave Abish the strength to walk back home on her twisted ankle last week. He has blessed us our whole lives. And He wants to bless us even more.

"I was worried that this God would expect payment for all the blessings, because He has helped us all this time even though we've never offered sacrifice to Him. But the angel read my thoughts—" the eyes of the other three got even wider in amazement, if that was possible "—and he told me that the Lord didn't want payment—"

"The Lord?" Kalara broke in, puzzled.

"That's what the angel called God. Either 'God' or 'the Lord.' He never said His name, only referred to Him by titles. Anyway, the angel said that the Lord didn't want any payment for all He has blessed us with in the past. Now that we know about Him, however, He expects us to do certain things or He will withdraw His protection."

Kalara interrupted again. "Things? Like what? Rituals? Sacrifices?"

"I don't think this God is like that," Shalem explained, letting the wonder he still felt at this news color his voice. "He _wants_ to bless us, and He's blessed us all this time with no thought of reward. But what He wants us to do feels like a sacrifice of a different kind."

This was the part Shalem had been dreading explaining to his wife. He hoped the way he had planned it out would defray the hurt she would feel. At least a little. He turned fully to her and took her hand in his. "The angel called God one other thing. He called Him 'the One and True God." Shalem paused. "This God is the _only_ God in the world. He is the God of the entire world, heaven and earth. He is even the God of people who don't believe He exists. There are no other gods."

Kalara's hand clenched his as her eyes slowly closed. Shalem's voice grew quieter. "Rahama," his voice broke and he paused to swallow a small lump in his throat as he thought of his years of devotion, "isn't real. He hasn't blessed us at all; it's been the Lord all along. Rahama can't bless anybody. Solomah doesn't gift the king with wisdom. Shuz doesn't make storms. Puchah doesn't help the harvest." He left unsaid the one he was sure Kalara's mind jumped to. 'Aganon doesn't bring home travelers.' As he spoke he saw hurt bloom across her face, and tears fell slowly from her closed eyes. She let go his hand and turned abruptly from the fire, fighting to keep her composure.

Shalem immediately stood up and moved back to her side, kneeling beside her and clasping a comforting hand to her shoulder. It was all he could do at the moment, because he knew that if he embraced her she would break down, and he also knew how much she hated crying in front of the Noah and Abish. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then turned to the children. "The Lord wants us to give our devotions to Him from now on. If we do, He will bless us, and continue to bless us as long as we keep doing as He asks and continue to be kind to those around us."

"And how," began Kalara's wavering voice. Shalem turned his face to her and met her wet eyes. A lone tear escaped down her cheek, and she brushed it away ferociously. "How do we give devotion to a god we know nothing about? We don't even know his name!" He could hear the hurt in her voice and the obstinacy in her question, but she brought up a valid point, one that he hadn't thought to ask. He had received no instructions from the angel as to how to give devotions to the Lord.

He thought for a moment before saying the first thing that came to him, and as he said it, it made sense. "The Lord won't leave us in the dark about something so important. The messenger said that we needed to do this if God was to use us to do His work. He probably forgot to explain that part and he'll be back. After all, he came back once already, so he shouldn't have any problem visiting again."

Noah spoke for the first time, in a puzzled voice. "But the gods don't forget."

Shalem opened his mouth, then closed it again. In the end, he shrugged and gave a non-answer. "He wasn't a god. He was just a messenger."

Kalara's look had suddenly turned pensive. Shalem knew she would have a question. A big question. But before she could voice it, Abish stood, walked around to her father, settled in his lap, and gave him a big hug. She whispered loudly in his ear, "I believe you, Papa."

Shalem wrapped his arms around his daughter and rocked her gently back and forth. There would be time for questions later, when the children were in bed. And the answers would come, he was sure of that. Their family would be united. It would take some time. After all, he had seen the angel personally, and it still took two visits from that glorious personage to convince him. He didn't expect Noah, now silently joining their embrace, and especially Kalara, who Abish had pulled into the hug as well, to accept this new course right away. But with teaching, and learning, they would come.

He pulled back from the group hug and looked at each member of his family seriously. "We need to follow the angel's instructions. I know his words are true. I feel it in my heart." He knew he couldn't demand compliance in something as important as this; he would have to request and encourage obedience, making sure to set the example himself. "Will you follow me in this?"

Abish nodded emphatically, and Shalem smiled; she always had been Papa's girl. Noah followed a second later, and after a long moment Kalara slowly inclined her head and softly said, "I will follow you."

Shalem abruptly realized that it was as dark as pitch outside the hut, and all other sound from the neighborhood had ceased. He addressed Abish and Noah. "All right, you two, it's time for bed. We'll continue this in the morning." He moved his neglected bowl out of the way and rolled out their sleep mats, as Kalara remained motionless on the rug, staring into the dying fire. Up past their bedtime, the children's unfulfilled appetites were eclipsed by their heavy eyes, and they needed no encouragement to lay down; and as Shalem picked up his bowl of tepid meat and beans and began to once again eat quietly, the deepening of their breaths told him that they had both fallen asleep mercifully quickly.

Eventually, Kalara's voice came very low, so as to not wake the children from their sleep. "Shalem?" Ah, there it was. He waited. "What about our wedding gift? Rahama?"

Relieved, and hoping that this was Kalara's big issue, Shalem swallowed his mouthful slowly. Something told him, though, that this wasn't nearly big enough to cause her expression from before. He replied with a voice just as soft as hers. "I will take the statue to my shop in the morning. He will remain there until someone purchases him... no. It." He gave a sad little smile as he realized how hard this would be. "Perhaps I will finish the new one I'm working on, and sell that also. But they have to go. The messenger commanded it."

Kalara's breath had caught when Shalem referred to the statue of Rahama, always spoken of by name in the past, as 'it.' They faced each other, and realization lit her face. "This isn't a short-term thing, is it." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "You've changed so much, since just this morning." She shrank in on herself, her head and neck wilting. "I don't know what to believe any more. I just—" she struggled to find the words. "I trust you. And I want to believe you, Shalem, I want to believe you so badly. But I don't know how. It's asking too much, when I've never heard of this ever before. And I have too many questions. I want to follow you. But I can't." Her words caught in her throat again.

Shalem had known that if he had fully embraced Kalara during the family council, she would have lost her composure. He recognized that now was the time. He shifted over to his wife and wrapped her in his arms, and it didn't take long before she was muffling her sobs into his shoulder, her arms folded up between them as if she were in fetal position. One of Shalem's arms encircled her back, the other cradled her head, and he tried to pour as much love, caring, and patience into her as he could. "Kalara," he said softly as her tears melted into wet hiccups, "I love you. You are my wife. You are my partner. Whatever happens in this family, we need to be together. I..." He took a deep breath. "I can't do this alone. I can't guide this family by myself. I need you with me.

"I will find a way to ask God, or the angel, or whoever I can, some more questions. I will find out how to give devotions. I will find out how we should guide our family. And I will find out if there's any way to communicate with Heaven except by angel," he finished, trying to make her laugh. He realized, as the attempted joke fell flat, that it was actually a serious question.

Kalara turned her head sideways so she could speak while still leaning against him. "Could you ask something for me?" She said. "When you see the angel again?"

Shalem's heart soared. She didn't say 'if,' she said 'when.' She believes me, he thought. At least, she wants to. "Anything," he replied.

"Ask the name of God," Kalara pled softly. "I can't imagine a god without a name. He has to have a name."

It was a good question, and Shalem could tell that this, that she had mentioned briefly during dinner, was her main point, not their family idol. She wanted to know more about the Lord before she did anything else. Names had power, and described qualities and characteristics of the gods. As he thought objectively for the first time about the gods he had grown up with, he saw that the name Shuz was close to that of Shiz, the mighty warrior of legend, while Rahama likely got his name from an old word meaning compassion. He had thought of these similarities before; most people probably had and Kalara was no exception. But he had never put two and three together as he was doing now. Still, Kalara knew enough to know that if she knew the name of God she could learn something about His character and how to serve Him.

Shalem shifted to be able to meet her eyes again. "That's a very good point," he agreed. "I will ask. I can't believe I didn't think of asking before now. And when I find out, I _will_ tell you."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, taking comfort from each other's presence, before Shalem said, "It's late. You and I have to get to bed also. I'll take care of this." He slowly broke the embrace and indicated his dinner dish, which he picked up and carried to the bucket of wash water. Kalara lay down on their mat, and when Shalem joined her after banking the fire she curled up against him, seeking the comfort of contact. He pulled her close to him again, and they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Shalem gently shook Kalara awake. She instantly looked around for the children, but they were still sleeping not three rods away. When she saw there was no danger to their family, she visibly relaxed and said in a sleepy voice, "What's going on? Why are you up so early? It's still before dawn."

"The angel came a third time during the night."

"WHAT!" Kalara burst out. Abish and Noah's eyes jumped open.

"What's wrong, Mama?" they chorused, sitting up on their mats. Abish rubbed a fist in her eyes tiredly.

"Nothing," Shalem soothed, moving to them and laying a hand on Abish's head and Noah's shoulder. "Your mother and I were just talking and she got excited. You can go back to sleep until the sun is up. We'll move outside." The children nodded and lay back down. He rose and took Kalara by the arm, ushering her outside the hut into the grey pre-dawn. The air was heavy with water, and birds were starting to awaken in the forest nearby.

"He came again?" Kalara said again, more quietly.

"Yes, he just left."

Kalara's voice was laced with surprise and dismay. "I was right there, beside you. How come you didn't wake me?"

"I tried," Shalem explained. "I shook you, but you didn't wake. He told me that it was not given to you to see him—"

"Why not?"

"He said that I must lead the family, that I am to be to us as our father Lehi was to Laman and Lemuel, leading his family into a new land." He knew she would recognize the names, and even the incomplete version of the story they had learned had mentioned a journey through a waterless wilderness that took many months. "But he said that even I would not see him again after this visit," he said, trying to placate her. "He's not coming back."

"Well? What did he say?"

"He told me the exact same thing as he did both times I saw him yesterday, word for word. That we need to worship the Lord, that the gods aren't real, that our family is going to be important in God's work among our people if we remain righteous. I'm going to write it all down soon. And he taught me to give devotions, except he simply called it prayer."

Kalara's eyes lit up, and Shalem saw the first hint of a smile he had seen from her since the previous afternoon. This was something she could latch onto. "How do we do it?"

"I was somewhat surprised at how simple it was, though maybe I shouldn't have been. This God is, after all, very different than the other gods. For one, He wants to bless us; we don't have to beg Him for things, we just have to ask, and He judges our intent and our hearts. For another, He is our Father in Heaven and he cares about us."

Kalara's eager look had been replaced by confusion, and then wonder. Shalem remembered that he hadn't mentioned that last night. "That's right, the angel said that we are His children. In fact, last night, when he taught me how to pray, the angel gave me a sample prayer. He had me write it down as he gave it," and he ducked back into the hut, and sheepishly reemerged holding Abish's practice slate. He handed it to Kalara for her to read.

"_Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name," _she read aloud, stumbling a little over the odd sentence construction._ "Thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us. And suffer us not to be led into temptation, but deliver us from evil; for thine is the power and the glory, forever. Amen."_

She looked up at Shalem with a hint of a smile playing in her eyes. "You weren't kidding when you said he talked oddly."

Shalem smiled at her, happy she was beginning to relax. The light from the rising sun hit the tops of the nearby hills and began to creep downward towards the city of Ishmael. He absently watched it as he explained. "Devotion to God, as the angel explained it, is just two things. Prayer, and obedience. In prayer, after we address God, we thank Him for what He has blessed us with, and ask Him for the things we need. And close with 'Amen,' which seems like the only ceremonial piece of the whole thing.

"It's also when God talks to us, speaking to our hearts. He doesn't always use words, though. You know that feeling you get when you know what you need to do but you don't know exactly why?" Kalara slowly nodded, deep in thought. "As I understand, it's kind of like that. When I told you last night that I knew my story was true, that's how I knew."

Kalara broke in, "And obedience? How do we know what the Lord wants us to obey?"

"As you pray, listen with your heart. And if God has anything to tell you, He will tell you. If we have anything to ask Him, we include it in a prayer."

"Why couldn't the Lord have just spoken to your heart to teach you how to pray?" Kalara asked after a moment. "Why send the angel again?"

"I asked that very thing," said Shalem, encouraged that Kalara was analyzing and testing this new information. "His answer was that he came three times so I could remember his message to prepare you and the children to be ready for when God needs you. That's why I'm going to write it down, soon, before it fades."

Kalara stilled, and put both her hands on his arm. "Shalem," she said softly, looking earnestly up at his face, "did you ask the angel for... God's name?"

He smiled at her and brought his other hand to her shoulder. "I asked the angel. He said, without me telling him, that he knew the question was from you. And he said that you wanted to know God's name so you could use it to learn something about Him, and revere it, because names have power."

Kalara's eyes had widened during his speech, her gaze dropping from his in shock. "He knew," she breathed.

Shalem continued. "He explained that though God has many names and titles, His true name is not given lightly. Since the beginning of the world, He has told very few people. The angel was forbidden to give it to me at this time. But there is a name he _could_ give." Kalara's head inclined again from where it had fallen in disappointment. "One name, one title, that would tell you more about God than almost any other name He has. And that is, 'I Am.'"

Her grip on his arm loosened. "I am?" she said, nonplussed. "What type of name is that, for a god?"

Shalem shrugged. "I was just as confused as you." Then he turned to her, his dark eyes alight with excitement. "But before I woke you, I thought about it. It's a beautiful name. 'I Am' tells you more about God than any other title I can think of. It sets him apart from all other gods, and every person on the earth. 'I Am.' He is. That's what He wants you to know, Kalara. He IS."

Kalara stood staring at him, mouth slightly open. He couldn't quite read the changing emotions on her face, so he continued trying to explain his realization, speaking faster and faster. "You didn't see the angel, and he knew you would need more proof. But just look at the beauty around you, and ask God to tell you, help you find out—" Shalem's heart sank as he realized he wasn't helping, and Kalara finally cut him off.

"But I don't know how to find out if He 'is'!" she choked out in frustration. She broke away from him, gesticulating wildly as she spoke. "I don't know anything! I'm still not sure whether or not I can believe _you_! _Oh,_ I want to, but all I have is your word! Like you said, I've never seen a 'heavenly messenger'! No god has ever talked to me, given me any messages, or anything! According to you, even when the gods, when Aganon helped my father, that wasn't Aganon, that was him. But I don't know that. How can I _know_?"

The answer came as Shalem remembered one other thing the angel had told him during his night visit. He swiftly moved to fill the silence as her tirade faltered and she stood in the brightening dawn, her arms folded obstinately across her heaving breast.

"Prove the Lord."

She stilled. "...What?"

"That's what the angel said, 'Prove the Lord'," Shalem repeated. "Give Him a chance to prove Himself. Pray to Him. That was the other thing he told me, that if you pray in sincerity, and have faith that God will respond, He will speak the truth to your heart and answer your questions, including your question of whether or not He is even there. That goes for the children, too. They can know, you all can know as surely as I do. You're not expected to just take my word for it. Ask Him. He'll tell you. This was a promise from God. And He honors his promises."

"And just how do you know God honors his promises?" Kalara demanded defiantly, crossing her arms and turning away from him. "Did the angel tell you that, too?"

"That's not something the angel told me; it's just the only thing that makes sense. A God who rewards our family for our honesty couldn't be anything but honest Himself." Shalem knew this was it. If he were to convince his wife to try this, it would have to be this morning, before he departed for the market. If he left her alone all day to field questions from their children, just now beginning to stir again inside the hut, she would likely become even more unsure. But if he got her to commit now, her strong personality would fortify her until he returned home tonight.

He walked up behind her and embraced her again, bending his head down to hers. "Give God a chance," he whispered. "Pray to Him. For two weeks. And be as sincere as you can. After that, if you honestly have not received an answer, I won't ask you to try again. But if you have..." He tightened his hug gently. "Please trust Him. Trust me!" he begged.

Then he waited. Kalara took a deep breath, and let it out, but said nothing. Shalem honestly didn't know what she would decide, as she weighed her choices. For a long minute, they stood there, watching the early morning sunlight touch the top of their roof. Finally, she said, "Two weeks."

Thank you, he breathed toward Heaven.

Kalara turned her head and leaned her forehead against his, the sunlight playing through the trees casting mottled shadows on her face and hair. "But I want you to know, Shalem, that whether I get a response or not it won't change my love for you."

Oh, how he hoped so. "I love you, too. So much."

Husband and wife, they looked into the future, hopeful and uncertain.

* * *

A/N: That's it for Part One. What do you think will happen with Noah and especially Kalara? A world of possibilities is open here.

Surprise appearance of a version of the Lord's Prayer! After all, there's no reason to say no one could use it before Jesus gave it to us.

Part Two is still on the drawing board. I'll welcome any and all [constructive] criticism and suggestions as to how to improve my writing! I would especially appreciate any feedback on character interactions and reactions. The way Shalem whistled when he got home is taken from my own childhood, as is Abish's reaction. :)

All events will fit into the loose framework afforded by the Book of Mormon. I'm just filling a gap in the Narrative. But _boy_, is it a big one!

Until next time!


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